


Hand-Made Gifts Only

by BadBadBucky



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadBadBucky/pseuds/BadBadBucky
Summary: Vince and Howard have been together for a few years. Vince wants to propose on Christmas, but he and Howard have a rule that they're not allowed to give each other store-bought gifts. And Vince isn't sure how he's supposed to propose when he has no idea how to make a ring.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Boosh Secret Santa 2020!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [richardnoelchris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/richardnoelchris/gifts).



> This is a Secret Santa gift for RichardNoelChris. The prompt was fluff or a cozy Christmas. Here you go! Merry Christmas! You're wonderful!

**Now**

Vince and Howard’s friendship had many rules: Don’t force Vince to get ready in under two hours. Don’t make Howard wait for more than 4 hours. Never bring up the Geiger Counter Incident. No glitter outside the designated crafting area.

Rather than in order of descending importance, the rules were chronological. You could trace the shape of their entire friendship through those rules. 

And it all started with rule number 1. The very first rule of their friendship: At Christmas, only hand-made gifts were allowed, absolutely no store-bought gifts. It was a nice rule. A good rule. And Vince hated it, because he knew he was the reason it existed.

**_Then_ **

_ It was the last day of school before winter break, when Howard would leave to visit his grandparents in Wakefield and Vince wouldn’t get to see him for two whole weeks. They’d agreed that this would be the day they would do their gift exchange. It was their first Christmas since they’d become best mates (the distinction between mates and best mates mattered little to Howard, who, at eleven years old, was above such things, but to nine year old Vince it was everything) and Vince was very excited to give Howard his present, because he’d never given anyone a present before. _

_ Vince was quite proud of the gift he’d made for Howard. He’d drawn up a mock cover of the Global Explorer with Howard standing on top of a mountain planting a British flag at the peak and the headline read “World’s Yungest Xplorer!!!” He’d taped the drawing to a piece of cardboard so it wouldn’t bend, and he’d wrapped it with red paper with little holly leaves all over it. He kept it in his backpack so Howard wouldn’t be able to tell what it was by shape. _

_ At the end of the day they met out front by the steps. They always met out front, so they could walk together until they had to split up, with Howard walking toward the residential area with neat houses and nice gardens and Vince walking downtown to the tiny flat where he lived with his uncle.  _

_ Vince saw Howard standing at the bottom of the steps. He wore a genius green sweater with white snowflakes. Vince couldn’t afford a sweater like that, but he still wanted to get into the spirit of things, so he had made himself a paper chain boa in green and red. _

_ “Hey Howard!” Vince jumped up and down and waved at Howard from the top of the stairs.  _

_ Howard looked up at him and Vince did a bit of impromptu choreography. He loved the way Howard would laugh and then look around to make sure no one had seen him laugh. It was Howard’s best laugh and it mostly came out when Vince was doing something stupid in public and this of course encouraged him to do even more stupid things in public just to catch that laugh, to have those little chocolate button eyes turn his way.  _

_ Though the laughter died very quickly when Vince’s baby platforms slid in a patch of ice and he very nearly fell off the stairs. Howard could only watch in horror to see whether Vince would find his balance or go plummeting over. But, just like always, fate smiled upon Vince Noir and he regained his balance and hopped down the stairs as if nothing had happened, because--to him--nothing had.  _

_ “Hi, Howard,” Vince said, grinning up at Howard.  _

_ “Hey there, little man,” Howard said, his voice still a bit shaky due to Vince’s near miss.  _

_ “You got my present?” Vince asked. There was no point in beating around the bush, they both knew why they were here.  _

_ “Come now, let’s do this properly,” Howard said. Howard was always very concerned about doing things properly.  _

_ Vince made a big show of rolling his eyes, but his big goofy smile reassured Howard that it was all in good fun. “Hello Howard. Happy Christmas. How’s the family? Grandmother’s big neck go down? Great. You got my present?” He made grabby hands.  _

_ Howard smiled at Vince, then knelt down to open the briefcase he carried in lieu of a backpack. He pulled out a small package and handed it to Vince. The gift was wrapped with green paper and red glittery ribbons tied in a beautiful, elaborate, pattern.  _

_ Vince eagerly ripped open the package, ignoring Howard’s wince at the destruction of his perfect wrapping job. Inside the package was a large padded velvet box. Vince opened the box and inside was a tiara with hundreds of sparkling jewels. It was beautiful. _

_ “Cubic zirconia, I’m afraid,” Howard said. He shuffled around nervously. “But I thought it rather matched your...style.” _

_ “Wow!” Vince said. “This is amazing, Howard!” He threw his arms around Howard and even though Howard didn’t generally like being hugged, he was apparently willing to make a Christmas exception, because he returned the hug. _

_ Vince released the hug. Now, it was his turn to give Howard his present. He unslung his backpack and was about to unzip it, when he hesitated. Compared to the tiara, Vince’s drawing now seemed very stupid. He didn’t think he could take the look on Howard’s face as he forced enthusiasm for a dumb kid’s drawing. It wasn’t good enough. _

_ He pretended to dig around in his backpack, being sure not to reveal the wrapped gift within. “You know what, Howard? I’m sorry. I left your present back at my uncle’s flat. I’ll bring it to ya, tonight, before you leave, alright?” Vince chewed on his lips, to see if his lie would be accepted.  _

_ And it was. Howard didn’t question him further. When they split apart, Howard walked toward his nice little house with the hedgerows and plenty of food in the cupboards . But Vince did not go to his uncle’s little flat. He had other plans. _

**Now**

This was a rather important Christmas. Vince and Howard had been together for three years. And they’d honestly never been happier. Once they’d finally admitted that they loved each other, that they were  _ in love  _ with each other, the nasty fighting had stopped. 

Before they’d gotten together, Vince had largely resigned himself to his fate. That he and Howard would just snipe and poke and jab at each other for all eternity. Neither of them would ever leave, an occasional tantrum to Denmark notwithstanding (over the years both Vince and Howard had taken several tearful trips to Denmark when they needed to make a particularly large point, which had ruined the entire country for both of them). But neither of them would ever actually try for something more either. It had been Howard who broke the stalemate, on Christmas three years ago. 

Howard was always at his best around Christmas time. His most generous, most cheerful, most kind self. It was his favorite holiday. Every Boxing Day, he got going on his plans for the next year. Howard never seemed so melancholy as he was in mid-July, when Christmas seemed so far away and the glow from the year’s previous Christmas was but a distant memory. And the closer they got to December, the more excited Howard became. And he had been extra excited leading up to that particular Christmas. 

Vince had been able to tell Howard was planning something big (Howard had been wound tight as a clockspring for weeks), but he couldn’t figure out what it was, until they’d been snuggled on the couch, listening to Howard’s extensive Christmas vinyl collection. Howard had put on a new record, Dean Martin, singing  _ Silver Bells. _ He’d turned to Vince and held out his shaking hand. He’d said “Care to dance, little man?” And Vince had said yes, surprised and, of course, thrilled. They’d danced, with Howard leading. Vince had laid his head on Howard’s chest, and he swore that Howard’s heart was in perfect time with the music, which figured cause Howard always said that he had perfect tempo.

Howard had maneuvered them over to a special spot on the floor, with an X taped down on the floor, that Vince had not thought to question until that very moment. But then Vince had looked up at the ceiling and saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging over their heads. And then he saw Howard’s shy smile. “Only if you want to,” Howard had said. And Vince had wanted to. And so they kissed. And it was as if the entire universe had snapped into alignment. When they had parted both of their cheeks were wet with tears and they couldn’t tell whose were whose, because they were both crying tears of joy and relief. They’d been together ever since. 

A few months ago, Vince had come to a realization. He wanted to get married. He loved Howard and wanted to be his husband--or ugly wife, as he would surely be called. He would never want anyone else, he  _ never had  _ wanted anyone else. And so Vince had decided that he was going to ask Howard to marry him, on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day, they would pile into the van and drive to Leeds to eat Christmas dinner with Howard’s family. But Christmas Eve was just theirs. It always had been. 

So he had the perfect time and the perfect place and--second most importantly--the perfect outfit, but he did not have the most important element: the perfect ring. 

The ring was a problem. Because the very first rule of their friendship said: no store-bought gifts. It wasn’t their most important rule. But the last time Vince had tried to get out of it, Howard had said it was “symbolically significant.” Not only was it a rule, it had also become a capital T Tradition for Howard. And when something became a Christmas Tradition to Howard, it could never ever vary. Hand-made gifts only, no exceptions. 

It was three weeks until Christmas, when Vince went to Naboo about his problem, while Howard was at jazzercise. Vince and Howard had gone to Naboo many times over the years to arbitrate disputes over their friendship rules. Naboo was the world’s leading expert on the byzantine system of rules and regulations Howard and Vince had imposed on each other. And so Vince had gone to Naboo to make a ruling. 

First, Vince gave Naboo some spacecakes he’d bought off Leroy to soften him up. Naboo ate 6 of them and settled into a large beanbag chair in his room. 

“State your case,” Naboo said.

“Okay well, it’s like this right? It ain’t actually a Christmas present. It’s a present, that I’m giving to him on Christmas,’ Vince said. “It’s actually unrelated to Christmas, I just happen to be giving it to him, on Christmas.”

“Vince, don’ waste my time with this, I said I’d only hear compelling arguments,” Naboo said. He had to set firm boundaries otherwise he’d spend his entire life litigating every little tiff these two berks had.

“It is a good argument! Look, it ain’t a Christmas present alright? I’m just giving it to him, on Christmas.” Vince was in a sticky situation. He didn’t really want to tell Naboo his plan. He wanted Howard to be the first to know, but he knew Naboo wouldn’t rule in his favor if he didn’t know the full circumstances. 

“You sayin’ it again, don’t make it any better,” Naboo said, “honestly Vince, this is sad, even for you.”

“Look, what if I make him something and buy him something?” Vince asked desperately. 

Naboo pulled out his reading glasses and consulted the Big Book of Rules, which Vince and Howard had collaborated on, and so it had a leather cover with the title spelled out in glitter glue. He flipped it open to the first page. He dragged his fingers through the various subsections and amendments and precedents. Vince watched him with his hands clasped at his chin.

After what felt like an eternity, Naboo took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up at Vince. “The language is pretty ironclad here, Vince, I don’ see no way around it, if you want to give him something store bought, give it to him on Boxing Day.” 

“Boxing Day’s not romantic,” Vince said. 

Naboo shrugged. “Look, I got a lot of stuff to do so…”

“Nabooooo!” Vince wailed. 

Naboo crossed his arms and then nodded, and Vince was instantly transported out of Naboo’s room. Then, Naboo popped up right beside Vince, causing Vince to give out a little shriek. Naboo grabbed a large bong off the coffee table, nodded, and disappeared back into his room. Smoke instantly issued out from underneath the door. Vince considered kicking the door a few times, but really did not have time for any of Naboo’s obscure punishments that he employed whenever he or Howard bothered him too much, so instead he disappeared into his and Howard’s room to think. 

Vince was still sitting on their bed, thinking, when Howard returned from jazzercise. The light had changed, but Vince hadn’t noticed. He only looked up when Howard turned on the light switch. 

“Alright there, little man?” Howard asked. He wore his Christmas themed workout clothes, a Christmas sweater with the sleeves cut off and some rather short shorts that said “Santa’s Little Helper” across the back. Vince had made them for him last year for Christmas. He’d never really expected Howard to wear them, but Howard did, quite often. 

Vince grinned up at him. It was easy to smile when Howard walked into a room. “Course. I was just thinking.” 

“Dangerous, that is,” Howard said. He leaned in for a kiss, pecking Vince on the lips. 

“Get off me with ya man stink,” Vince said, making absolutely no effort to push Howard off, and in fact pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. 

Eventually, Howard pulled back. “I actually do stink. I’m going to shower.” 

Vince watched Howard walk away. How on earth was he going to  _ make  _ a ring that was good enough for that northern jazzy freak he loved so much?

**_Then_ **

_ Vince stood outside the record store, staring through the window. He had the perfect idea for a present for Howard. There was an autographed record in the shop, It was called the Whistle, by Stickball Jenkins and the Gym Class 5. Sometimes, Howard would drag Vince to the shop just to stare at it. The problem was that Vince didn’t have any money. He kept himself in sweets and makeup by charming people into giving him stuff or lifting things from shops. But he’d never stolen anything bigger than a tube of lippy.  _

_ It had to be done. And he had a plan, of sorts. He’d read in Cheekbone that it was well in fashion at the moment for people to have cubes for kids. And in order to fit the cube’s cube head, the mum’s had square bellies. So he reckoned that he could put a milk crate under his shirt and smuggle the record out like that. He’d put on some makeup, a wig, his tallest heels, then he’d just waltz in as a very respectable and super cool pregnant lady, and waltz back out with Howard’s present. It was genius.  _

_ Vince ran back to his uncle’s flat, he still did not like to think of it as home, there wasn’t a bus ticket in sight. He found his tallest pair of platforms, eight inches tall. Bryan had said his ankles weren’t strong enough yet, that he had to wait until he was older to wear them, but Bryan wasn’t there so...wotever.  _

_ He got out his blond wig he’d worn to be Lady Di last Halloween. He tucked his own dirty blond hair into the wig and straightened it, brushing the fringe so it laid across his brow just so. Then, he pulled out some blue eyeshadow and red lipstick. The first time he’d come to school wearing this particular makeup combo, Howard had said he looked very...mature, though it hadn’t sounded like a compliment exactly. But mature was right next to old, and that is how he needed to look. _

_ Vince entered the record shop, looking amazing and mature and well old, only teetering a little in his massive platforms. That clerk didn’t stand a chance. _

_ Vince lurched around the front counter and gave the clerk a casual nod, nothing too flirty--he was with child after all--but just the right amount so that the clerk would be so entranced by him that he wouldn’t question just what Vince was up to in the jazz section of the store.  _

_ Once Vince was sure the coast was clear, he reached up, snagged the record, and stuck it in the milk crate wedged under his shirt. One of the keys of successful shoplifting was to make sure you didn’t just try to leave the moment the deed was done. Nonchalance was key. So, Vince flipped through a few records, ignoring the rash already creeping across the skin on his belly from prolonged exposure to the jazz record. He glanced down at the watch he’d drawn on his wrist in a stroke of brilliance and feigned shock at just how late it had gotten. He walked up the aisle toward the front door.  _

_ The moment of truth. Vince walked confidently right past the clerk. He was almost out the door when-- _

_ “Hey kid,” the clerk said. “You gotta--” _

_ Vince took off running out of the shop.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Now**

Vince kept to himself the next few days. He needed to come up with a plan. There was the ring to contend with and then there was the rest of the proposal, which had to be just perfect. And of course there were all the normal preparations that came with spending Christmas with Howard. 

Christmas was a month-long affair for the two of them, with well worn rhythms and traditions. Vince would hang up all the lights, then Howard would trail behind him, fixing them, making them neat and level. They would go Christmas shopping together to buy presents for their other friends, as there was no need to do the shopping separately because they always made their gifts for each other. Howard would bake a neverending assortment of cakes and puddings and sweets and Vince would eat them all, for “quality control” purposes. They liked to write a new Christmas song together each year (a tradition that had started once Vince figured out how to play the Casio) and hold hands while ice-skating (Their newest tradition and already a strong contender for Vince’s favorite). There were decorations to hang and mittens to knit (Howard was quite good at knitting) and tinsel bedecked outfits to sew (last Christmas Vince had finally completed the tinsel gilly suit). Yes, there was much to do in December. And this left Vince with little time in which to take a blacksmithing course or apprentice with a jeweler in order to make Howard’s ring. Christmas was approaching and he was running out of ideas.

“Are you alright, little man?” Howard asked.

They were sitting on the couch, Vince nestled into Howard’s side, playing with the curls gathering at Howard’s collar (Howard’s hair was getting long. The midnight barber was going to have to make an appearance), watching the  _ Colobus the Crab Christmas Spectacular. _

“You’ve been quiet the last few days. Disturbingly quiet. As quiet as when that witch stole your voicebox,” Howard said.

And Howard was right. Normally, Vince would be offering commentary on the costumes and the sets and how genius Colobus was as Father Christmas. But Vince was lost in thought, and so he’d barely noticed Howard’s selection, didn’t notice that likely Howard had selected the movie  _ for him _ , as Howard tended to prefer the classics like  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ and  _ Miracle on 34th Street _ .

“Sorry Howard.” Vince pressed a kiss to Howard’s neck. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? Someone kidnap Jagger’s boots?”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Vince said. 

“Sorry,” Howard said. “What is it though? What’s wrong? I can always tell, little man. I’ve got a nose for these things. Like a bloodhound. I can sniff out sadness from forty meters.”

It was true. Now that Howard himself was not drenched in the stench of sadness any longer, dating Vince Noir had the good effect of driving sorrow away, he was quite good at sensing when Vince was not feeling his usual sunshine self. 

“It’s just…” Vince could barely bring himself to bring it up. Howard loved all of their traditions. The only thing that convinced him to open up was the look of fear in Howard’s eye. 

When they’d first got together, Howard had been convinced that Vince was going to dump him by the end of the week. And when that didn’t happen, he became convinced that Vince would dump him by the end of the month. That didn’t happen either. Vince never had any intention of dumping Howard and he felt horrible that the thought could even creep into Howard’s skull, because it meant that Vince wasn’t doing his job of convincing Howard how much he loved him. And he saw that same look of fear in Howard’s eye, then, like he thought that Vince was getting ready to chuck him. And Vince couldn’t bear it, and so he told the truth. Sort of.

“Do you ever get tired of the hand-made gifts only rule?” Vince asked.

The look of fear disappeared from Howard’s eyes, replaced by confusion. “What?”

“Like--wouldn’t you like a new record player or a lens for your camera instead of  _ another  _ painting or bleeding sparkly shirt?” Vince asked. 

He honestly did try and make things he thought Howard would like, but even the dullest of fabrics tended to find their sparkle when they were worked by Vince’s hands, Naboo and the other shaman had studied the phenomena but could make heads nor tails of it, like being able to talk to animals, it was just one of those Vince things. 

“Like, did you ever get annoyed with me, that all these years I’ve never once gotten you a proper gift and you got me that genius tiara and--”

“Oh. That,” Howard said, with distaste. 

**_Then_ **

_ Vince ran down the street. The Lady Di wig flew off his head, revealing the dirty blond shag cut underneath. The clerk chased after him, screaming. Vince tried to pull the milk crate out from under his shirt but it kept getting tangled. So, he ran with his arms wrapped around his middle, every once in a while tossing a glance backward to see how close the clerk was to catching him.  _

_ There was an alley up ahead that would lead straight to Vince’s uncle’s boxing gym, it had a fence in the middle. A fence he could climb easily, but there was no way the record clerk would be able to scale it.  _

_ Vince was so focused on making it to the alley, that he never saw the patch of ice on the sidewalk. His gigantic eight inch platforms skidded in the ice. He pinwheeled his arms wildly and the milk crate and record went flying.  _

_ Hope of regaining his balance died a quick and brutal death. He was going down. The only question was: how bad it was going to be?  _

_ Plenty bad. _

_ Vince’s ankle snapped with a pop that was sure to break the sound barrier, at least in Vince’s own mind. The pain was immediate and all encompassing. Vince’s mind went blank. The only signal running through his entire brain was “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” _

_ He let out a loud howl as he toppled over, his elbow banging the pavement. Vince did not notice his torn jacket or the long bloody scrape underneath. He didn’t notice the record snapping in half. And he certainly did not notice Howard standing with his mother on the sidewalk in front of him. _

_ He didn’t notice, that was, until he heard a voice say-- _

_ “Vince?!”  _

_ And when he looked up, there was Howard’s shocked face.  _

**Now**

“What do you mean, oh that?” Vince said. 

Howard shifted on the couch, he massaged his eyes. Vince sat up. 

“Howard?” Vince said. 

Howard’s little eyes darted over at Vince. He looked even more shifty than he had when Vince had been interrogating him about what he wanted Vince to do to him on his birthday. 

“Howard.”

“I was embarrassed,” Howard said. 

“Yeah, I know,” Vince said. It still embarrassed him too. “ It was so stupid. I shouldn’t ‘ave stolen the—“ 

“No, not by you,” Howard said. He sat up and looked at Vince, making a real effort to hold Vince’s eyes. He made it three whole seconds before darting away. “By my gift.”

“The tiara? But I loved it. It was well cool. I wore it all the time,” Vince said. 

“I remember.” Howard’s mustache twitched as he smiled. “But no, not the tiara. That was your second gift.”

“Second gift?” Vince scoffed. “I think I’d remember if I’d gotten two gifts.” 

“I never gave you the first one,” Howard said. 

“Well, give it here!” Vince said and made grabby hands. 

“I don’t have it right this instant, now do I?” Howard said. He quirked an eyebrow with mock seriousness. “May I continue?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I wrote you a song,” Howard said. He ducked his head down, trying to hide his eyes. .

Vince flicked his incisor with his tongue, his voice dropped into a saucy drawl. “Really?”

The sheepish grin was eaten by Howard’s wolfish smile. “Yes, really.”

“Was it a love song?” Vince asked. He’d meant for it to be cheeky but it had come out quite earnestly.

“More than I knew,” Howard said. 

“Why haven’t I heard it? Why didn’t you give me the song?”

“I worked on it for weeks. Tinkering. Consulting a rhyming dictionary. Figured out what a minor key was, which is actually quite impressive for an 11 year old, I told my parents I was a prodigy, to no avail” Howard waggled his eyebrows at Vince.

“Dunno what that means,” Vince said.

“Point was, I was all ready to give it to you, but then I practiced it, one last time, before school that day. And it sounded so…” Howard sighed. “Stupid. So I begged my mum to take me to that accessory store.”

“Blaire’s?” Vince said.

“Of course you still remember what it was called. You never forget an accessory shop, do you?” Howard said.

“A’ course not. What if we’re back in Leeds and stick on earrings come back in? Or headbands? And you’d forced me to bring only one suitcase and so I’d left all my stick on earrings and headbands at home? What then Howard?” Vince asked.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that place was condemned after we left. So...suffer in silence?” Howard suggested with mock hopefulness.

Vince gave him a knowing look. They both knew that would absolutely not be the case. And now Howard would be lucky to get Vince to Leeds with fewer than eight suitcases, since he would now have to bring every accessory he owned. 

“So I ran in and grabbed the first sparkly thing I saw and bought it with the money my mum gave me. No thought. No meaning. Nothing special. I completely chickened out,” Howard said. “That’s why I came up with the rule. So that I couldn’t hide behind store-bought gifts ever again.”

**_Then_ **

_ “My, when things go wrong for you, they really go wrong don’t they?” Howard said. He sounded almost impressed. He and Vince sat on the sidewalk, they were waiting for the ambulance to come.  _

_ Vince kept his eyes glued to the ground. He could hear Howard’s mother speaking with the record store clerk, saying that she would pay for the record, and that Vince had surely learned his lesson.  _

_ Listening to Howard’s mum, who had always been so nice to him, defend him to the clerk was near enough to send Vince over the edge. He didn’t deserve anyone as nice as Howard or his mum. He sniffled a few times, and his face took this as a surrender and crumpled into full on sobs.  _

_ “Vince, I’m sorry. I was only joking,” Howard said. Vince couldn’t see him, but he could hear the worry in Howard’s voice.  _

_ “I’m so stupid,” Vince said. “I dunno what I was thinkin’.” _

_ “I’m not trying to sound mean, but what were you thinking?” Howard asked. “What were you trying to take?” _

_ “Uhhh, new Adam Ant record,” Vince said.  _

_ Howard probably would have believed this, except that at that very moment Howard’s mum picked up the empty cardboard sleeve; it was already dissolving between her pinched fingers. And Howard saw that the record was decidedly not the new Adam Ant record.  _

_ “Ah,” Howard said.  _

_ “Howard, i-it’s not--” Vince said. “It’s not, I wasn’t--” _

_ Howard didn’t look at him. “It’s okay.” _

_ “No it isn’t,” Vince said, and tears drifted down his cheeks in fat blobs. _

_ “It is. It really is. That you would do something like this...for me. I just--no one has ever--” Howard stuck out his hand to shake. _

_ This was a huge deal. Howard never  _ never  _ initiated physical contact. Vince seized Howard’s hand and pumped it up and down, taking care not to jostle his ankle, which had quieted to a dull ache so long as he didn’t move.  _

_ Howard smiled at Vince, but there was something else behind it. Something Vince just couldn’t place. “Perhaps we could make a rule,” Howard said. “That says we have to hand make our gifts. Nothing store-bought.”  _

_ Howard was being too nice and it almost made Vince start crying again. He really was very different around Christmas time. It wasn’t that Howard was generally mean or anything, but he had spikes. Vince was good at winding his way around and through them, but even he still managed to get poked. But around Christmas, it was like those spikes were gone. And that made Vince feel a bit braver. _

_ “Could you hand me my backpack?” Vince asked. _

_ Howard pulled over Vince’s backpack. The bottom of it was wet from melted slushy snow. Vince unzipped the bag and pulled out Howard’s real gift.  _

_ “Made this for you,” Vince said.  _

**Now**

“But--but  _ my  _ present was so stupid. That tiara was so pretty. And mine was just that drawing,” Vince said. 

Howard stood up. 

“Where are you going?” Vince asked.

Howard grabbed his wallet off the little table where he kept his wallet and keys, and Vince kept his mini-hairspray and pocket mirror. Howard opened the wallet and removed several credit cards, his jazzercise membership card, gift cards to various eating establishments with less than a dollar left on them, and a condom from 1998. Finally, he found what he was looking for, creased and yellowed from age, but still quite recognizably the drawing Vince had done for him of “Howard Moon, World’s Yungest Xplorer!” 

“I loved it. I always loved it. I’ve loved everything you’ve ever made me,” Howard said. “It’s way better, knowing it came from you. That you put work and effort and thought into it.”

“I loved everything you made me too,” Vince said. “I wish I could have heard the song.” He settled his head on Howard’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Howard’s middle. 

“Me too, little man, me too,” Howard said. Well...bugger all, now Vince  _ had  _ to make that ring. 


	3. Chapter 3

**_Then_ **

_ Vince, age 10: Drawing of the cover of Kind of Blue done in crayon. _

_ Howard, age 12: Photo of a water stain that looked like Mick Jagger _

_ Vince, age 11: Pencil topper botanical garden _

_ Howard, age 13: Papier mache bust of Gary Numan _

_ Vince, age 14: Mixtape _

_ Howard, age 16: A planner filled with inspirational quotes he’d come up with himself  _

_ Vince, age 16: Comic strip, the “Advenchurs of Vince and Howard” _

_ Howard, age 18: Poem, entitled  _ Boots

_ Vince, age 25: Shirt that could double as a parachute _

_ Howard, age 27: Photo of Vince laughing, after a gig, looking like a true rock and roll star _

_ Vince, age 29: A painting of Howard playing guitar, with the most intent look on his face _

_ Howard, age 31: Mittens with Aladdin Sane lightning bolts.  _

_ Vince, age 32: Cowboy look (Howard kept mentioning swing dancing) _

_ Howard, age 34: Contingency presents. If they kissed, a mistletoe crown with red diamontes, if they didn’t, a rainbow scarf with sparkle yarn _

**Now**

Christmas Eve. Every inch of the flat was covered in the most romantic decorations Vince could think of. Sparkling fake snow artfully dusted every surface. There were candles everywhere. He’d cut out paper snowflakes and hung them from the ceiling in long strands (and he’d used his good sparkle paper so they caught the lights just right). There were at least seven wreaths strewn about the apartment, giving the air a hint of crisp forest. Soft white lights hung in graceful droops from the ceiling. The Christmas tree was a cheerful mishmash of Vince’s love of sparkle and Howard’s love of traditional collectible ornaments. Vince also included a garland he had made with the flatmates’ faces--painted with Vince’s customary erratic style-- cut out and strung together, done in Christmas colors. It was a few years old, so it was starting to get a bit tatty around the edges, but Howard loved it and so Vince hung it over the mantle.

He’d paid Bollo and Naboo to spend the holidays off planet, so he and Howard could have the flat to themselves (Naboo and Bollo did not mention that they were planning on leaving anyway, they just took the money and legged it). They weren’t set to go to Leeds to visit Howard’s family until the next day (he was nearly finished packing his accessories). It was just the two of them. And he could hardly wait. Keeping his plans to propose a secret had been the biggest challenge of Vince’s life. But it was just about time to let the cat out of the bag. Just a few more things to attend to. 

Vince had ascertained what time Howard needed to start cooking Christmas dinner without being stressed and then kicked Howard out until exactly that time. They’d started the tradition where they would decorate together for their everyday Christmas decorations, but then for Christmas Eve, Vince would redecorate so that Howard could be surprised by the transformation of the flat into a different winter Wonderland every year. Then Howard would kick Vince out, so that he could cook and Vince could be surprised. The timing was perfect. Vince would see Howard’s reaction to his decorations, then he would go put the finishing touches on the ring and be back in time for dinner. 

It was nearly time for Howard to return. Vince put on Brenda Lee’s  _ Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree  _ and danced around the flat as he sprinkled some glitter in his hair, then pulled on his candy cane striped stockings and short Mrs. Claus dress. He sat down to put on his bright red platforms and then positioned a santa hat on his head, cocked at just the right angle. This was his first of three planned looks for the day.

Vince draped himself over the couch and watched the clock that hung over the door. It was 1:33p.m. In 10 seconds it would be 1:34 and Howard would come bustling in. Vince casually--not casually at all--played with his hair.

3

2

1

A key slotted into the lock and the door opened. Howard came bustling in, groaning under the weight of eight shopping bags filled with food. 

“Little man you wouldn’t belie--” Howard stopped mid complaint when he caught sight of Vince. He nearly dropped all of the shopping bags, but managed to save them by clutching them all to his chest, the groceries gave an ominous rattle and lurch, but remained in his arms. Even Howard’s luck seemed to improve around Christmas time. He rapidly sat the bags down on the counter. Then he walked over to Vince. “I think you’ve rather outdone yourself.” He had not actually looked at the decorations, he had eyes only for Vince, as it had been for nearly all his life. He leaned in and kissed Vince. 

Vince marveled that every time they kissed, it still felt exciting and new, even after they’d been together for years. There was still a little voice in his heart that screamed “Howard! Howard! You’re kissing Howard! You did it!” 

Eventually, Howard did pry himself away from Vince for long enough to notice the decorations. He said they were absolutely gorgeous. Then he saw the clock. He was already seven minutes behind, so he shooed Vince out, not even allowing Vince a moment to pop into the bathroom to fix his smeared lipstick.

Howard shoved Vince’s coat into his arms and nudged him out the door. 

“My makeup--”Vince began, trying to shove his way back into the flat. 

“Use your emergency kit,” Howard said, with only his head sticking out the door. He pulled his head back in and closed the door, then locked it, deadbolted it, and did up the chain. Vince perhaps had a history of sneaking back in to try and figure out what was on the menu. The only thing he loved more than surprises was sussing out surprises before he could be surprised. But Vince didn’t have time to rappel into the kitchen to taste the sauce while Howard was in the restroom, he had other plans. 

Instead, he walked to the workshop he’d been borrowing from his new blacksmith mate. He had come into the workshop two weeks previous. He’d read an article about the blacksmith in Cheekbone when smithing had become well in fashion for a few days ten years previous. Vince never forgot a trend, nor a trendsetter, and so he’d sought the smith, Cody, out. 

Cody had been amazed--and a bit annoyed--at how quickly Vince had picked up smithing and shaping the metal with the metal belt sander. Vince had assured him that all of the skill would be gone within weeks or even days. He just had really exceptional beginner’s luck. He could do basically anything...once. And so he’d managed to make Howard a dark metal ring inlaid with Howard’s favorite wood: desert ironwood. 

Vince finished the inscription and then admired his handiwork. He thought it was pretty good. Masculine but pretty. All that was left was testing to see if it fit. He’d been trying for weeks to get Howard’s ring size, but it turned out that it was extremely difficult to be subtle about it. Last night, he’d taken a risk and taken a plaster cast of Howard’s finger while he was sleeping. 

He dropped the ring over the end of the plaster finger. It fell to the bottom with no resistance. Vince and Cody examined it.

“It fits, right? Right?!” Vince asked.

Instead of answering Vince’s question, Cody reached out and flicked the ring, it rattled around as it spun on the plaster. 

“It’s too biiiiiiig!” Vince wailed. “Oh, I’ve mucked everything up. Too bleedin’ big. I’m such an idiot. What am I gonna do?”

“Give it to him anyway?” Cody said. 

“But then he’ll feel obligated to wear it and all that. Even though there ain’t nothin’ more annoyin’ than an accessory that don’t fit right.” 

“You could always get it resized,” Cody said, though he and Vince both knew it would ruin the wood, and the inscription, though this knowledge was already starting to dissipate on Vince’s mind as the beginner’s luck wore off. 

“Say that again,” Vince said.

“You could get it resiz-”

“Cody, you’re a monkey genius!” And with that, Vince ran out of the workshop. 

Resize it. He could sneak into the attic, find Naboo’s shrink ray, and shrink the ring down to just the right size. It was perfect! 

Vince arrived back at the flat and prepared to take out his key. He had nearly slotted it into the lock when he remembered, Howard was cooking. There was no way he was making it through the front door. Howard would assume he was trying to snoop on the menu and kick him out again. 

So, instead, Vince snuck around to the back of the shop. He jumped up and down, trying to reach the rusty old fire escape ladder. He nearly broke his ankle again, because he was wearing platforms and it was icy, but he needed the extra height, so he couldn’t take them off. Usually, Howard was there to give him a boost. He did finally get a hold of the bottom rung of the ladder. He hung mid-air, not quite heavy enough to get the ladder to come down. He kicked his legs back and forth, swaying back and forth to try and jolt the ladder loose. With a loud clang and rusty screech, the ladder finally gave way, lowering vince slowly back down to the ground.

Vince jabbed his hands in the air in silent victory. He climbed the ladder and got to the platform right by their kitchen window. He planned to climb to the next level and climb into the attic via the window. But Howard had heard the ladder come down, and he knew what Vince was like better than anyone in the universe, and so he’d come out to investigate. Vince could hear him coming. He had only seconds before Howard spotted him and asked just what on earth Vince thought he was doing, climbing around on an icy metal fire escape in a Mrs. Claus dress. And Vince didn’t know if he could keep the secret much longer, any direct questions would surely stymie him, when the truth was so close to being revealed. 

Faced with all this, Vince pulled open the window to the kitchen and tumbled headfirst into the flat, over the kitchen sink. The toe of his red platform boot caught on the lip of the sink and twisted hard to the left. Vince landed hard on his arse. He bit down on a scream. He gingerly prodded his ankle, wincing at the twinge of pain. But then he stood up. It wasn’t broken, so it didn’t matter. 

Vince hobbled down the hallway, kicking off his boots as he went. The pulldown staircase for the attic was down at the end of the hall, right by the door to Naboo’s room. He reached for the little ring attached to the thin rope that would pull the ladder down. But without his boots, he was too short to reach it. Vince screeched in frustration and went back to the kitchen to grab a chair. 

“Bleeding urban foxes,” Howard grumbled to himself as he opened the door to the flat, then closed it behind him. 

Vince froze in the center of the kitchen. Any moment, Howard would turn around and see him. Howard would kick him out, or worse: start fussing over his hurt ankle. Then, Christmas--and his proposal--would be ruined. 

Howard faced the coat rack as he shrugged out of his coat and toed off his boots, which he then leaned down to untie. This practice defeated the entire point of taking your boots off with your toes and drove Vince mad. But there was no time to dwell. 

Vince slid on his stockinged feet down the hall to his and Howard’s bedroom. He timed the click of the door with Howard setting his keys on the side table. But the moment he closed the door, he was hit full in the face with about a kilogram of glitter. It got in his mouth, up his nose, in his hair. He was literally going to be shitting glitter. 

Vince stumbled backward, brushing at his eyes and his tongue, spitting and choking. He sat down on his and Howard’s bed and leaned back, feeling around for something to wipe his eyes with. He found one of Howard’s hawaiian shirts and rubbed his face on it. When he could finally see again, he saw there was a sign that said “NO SNOOPING VINCE!” and beside the sign was a handmade glitter bomb. Howard had glitterbombed him! If Vince wasn’t feeling so annoyed he would probably think it was hilarious. Glitterbomb. Genius. He would have to corduroy bomb Howard, he wasn’t quite sure how that would go, but he’d work it out. Maybe he could shred some cord--

Vince gave himself a mental jolt. He’d have time to think about corduroy bombs later. He still had to make it to the attic, and now he was covered in glitter, so there was no way Howard wouldn’t see that he was sneaking around, leaving a trail of glitter everywhere he went, which was also sort of genius, but NOT RIGHT NOW!

He needed to get a chair from the kitchen so he could reach the attic ladder. He needed Howard out of the room. Once he was in the attic, he could leave by fire escape, hotfoot it back around to the front of the shop and come in as if nothing had happened. Easy as that.

Vince tried to pull on his everyday highheeled boots, but his ankle was too swollen. So he reluctantly pulled on his old trainers. Howard, hoarder that he was, insisted that Vince hold onto them, just in case, and Vince, hoarder that he was, had readily agreed. 

Next, he needed to get rid of Howard before he spotted Vince’s platforms still sitting in the hallway. 

Vince crawled under their bed. There was a mousehole he hadn’t told Howard about. The Jensen’s lived there, and he rather liked the Jensen’s. 

“Mrs. Jensen? Are you there?” he whispered. “Mr. Jensen? Nana Jensen? Spike? Tina? Tony? Tasha? Levensworth? Cousin Rick? Gregor? Anybody?”

Ten mice skittered out of the hole. They all wore tiny outfits that Vince had sewn them. 

“Alright, Jensen’s?” Vince said.

“Alright, Vince?” Mrs. Jensen squeaked. 

“I gotta bit of a problem, I need ta get Howard outta the flat for a couple minutes,” Vince said. “Could you distract him? Maybe push something off a shelf down in the shop?”

All of the mice snapped off a crisp salute and trooped out of the bedroom. 

Vince stood and pressed his ear to the door, praying that Howard was too absorbed by whatever he was cooking--which smelled amazing--to spot Vince’s boots in the hall. 

There was a loud clatter downstairs. 

“Ha, ha! Tripwire got him,” Howard said. Vince could hear the glee in his voice. “Vince? Is that you? I’ve still got half an hour left!” 

Vince waited until he heard the door of the flat close behind Howard, then he crept out of their room. The coast was clear. He shuffled forward and grabbed one of the kitchen chairs but found he couldn’t lift the chair due to his ankle. He was going to have to drag it.

The chair made the loudest screech imaginable as Vince pulled it cross the floor. Vince squeezed his eyes shut, the noise of the chair rattling his teeth. 

“Cousin Rick! I might have known,” Howard roared. “Vince put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Howard knew him too well.

Vince grimly limped down the hallway. 

Howard hustled back up the stairs. “Vince?”

Vince placed the chair right under the pulldown. He climbed up on the chair, his bad ankle--always the same bleeding ankle--wobbled underneath him. He hooked his finger through the loop and pulled down the ladder.

Howard spoke as he opened the door. “I have to admit, I am impressed, this is the furthest you’ve ever--” he spotted Vince climbing up the ladder toward the attic. 

It was at that very moment, that Vince’s ankle gave out and he fell off the ladder. 

“Vince!” Howard screamed. He ran down the hallway, his northern pins working overtime,  vaulted over the chair, and caught Vince in his arms. 

Vince looked up at Howard through his eyelashes. He was now thankful that he was covered in glitter, he needed to be at his most pretty. “Alright, Howard?”

Howard glared down at Vince, but Vince instantly relaxed because it was the fake glare, the secretly pleased glare. 

“You’re early, little man,” Howard said. His mustache twitched as he tried to keep from smiling, but the crinkling at the corners of his eyes gave him away. 

“Yeah, well, I um--Howard, you’re not gonna believe this but there was this magic moth,” Vince rambled. “And it said it would give us Christmas wishes if I let it get at that pile of sheets in the attic. So I was just--”

“Vince,” Howard said.

“I swear, this time it really isn’t what it looks like,” Vince said. “I wasn’t snooping. It was really important. Like really really important. The most important thing that’s ever happened.”

“Well, if it was the most important thing that’s ever happened,” Howard said. 

“It is though. It’s Christmas business Howard. Rule number 1 business.” Vince raised his eyebrows meaningfully. 

Howard grew serious. “Rule 1, you say?”

Vince bit his lip and nodded several times. 

“Do you need help, getting up to the attic?” Howard asked.

Vince nodded again, his lower lip sticking out. 

Howard boosted Vince up into the attic, careful not to bump his ankle.

Once Vince was safely in the attic, he popped his head through the opening. “Thanks Howard.”

“You’ll call me when you want to come down?” Howard asked.

“Yeah,.” Vince disappeared into the attic and set to work. 

Vince limped over to the shrink ray, which was covered by a large dusty tarp. He pulled the tarp off the ray and a cloud of dust floated into the air. At this rate it was going to take him at least 6 hours to finish his first outfit change. 

“Turn up your music, Howard!” Vince yelled, he didn’t want Howard hearing what he was up to. 

At least the thing still worked, Vince had honestly been worried that it would be broken, just like nearly everything else they owned. When you led the kinds of lives Vince and Howard did, you got used to things being broken, you just held onto them anyway. But the ray whirred to life with a bright mechanical chirp. 

Vince positioned the ring in the ray’s shrink zone. He didn’t exactly know how to operate the ray but he was sure his beginner’s luck would carry him through. He got behind the control panel and pressed a few buttons. The consul beeped and then a short burst of light fired from the end of the ray straight at the ring. 

Vince came out from behind the ray. He walked over to the shrink zone, only to find that the ring was gone. Panic gripped his heart. He’d made it microscopic. He should have known that was one of Naboo’s presets. Afterall, they only seemed to use the shrink ray on increasingly more distressing missions into each other’s bodies. 

Being very careful not to step on the shrink zone any more than he had to, Vince returned to the consul. He pressed a few more buttons and the rong exploded into view but kept growing until it knocked Vince off his feet and took up nearly the entire attic, almost crushing the shrink ray.

The entire flat shuddered under the weight of the massive ring.

“Everything alright up there, little man?” Howard called. He was using his “I’m trying very hard not to sound worried, but I am extremely worried” voice. 

“Yeah! Everything is fine!” Vince said. He was using his “I am panicking, but I do not want anyone else to know that” voice.

Vince twisted and crawled through the tangle of belongings that had been smushed together like the world’s most tightly packed antique shop. His ankle screamed at him every time he put too much weight on it, but he ignored it, determined to make it to the shrink ray. 

Finally, he reached the ray. The consul was blocked by a bunch of junk (mannequin, broken chandelier, kayak). Vince tried to shove a few things out of the way, but whenever he pushed too hard, the entirety threatened to collapse on top of him. He wormed his arm through the mannequin's arms and over some old Halloween decorations to reach the buttons. He poked a few, and then the ring shrank back down to ring size. 

Vince let out a great sigh of relief. He pulled out the plastercast of Howard’s finger from the invisible bumbag he used to carry all his essentials when he was wearing something especially tight or skimpy--it was technically a military prototype, not an accessory, he’d had to pay a Bulgarian mail order bride 500 euros to smuggle it over the border for him--but the finger had been crushed in Vince’s collision with the giant ring and it crumbled in his fingers the moment he brought it out. He had no way of knowing whether the fit was right or not. 

Intellectually--if Vince could ever be said to know anything intellectually--Vince knew that it didn’t matter. He and Howard could come back up to the attic and fiddle with the ring size until it was perfect. And it was the thought that counted and bleh bleh bleh. He didn’t care. He wanted it to be perfect. It had to be  _ perfect.  _ For Howard, everything needed to be perfect. 

So, he sent up a prayer to Jagger and Bowie and Numan and all the rest. Please let it fit. Just give Vince a little Christmas miracle, ay? How ‘bout it? Vince finished off the prayer, made the sign of the Jagger cross and clap, and limped over to the ladder. 

“I’m ready to come down now!” Vince called down to Howard. 

Howard appeared under the hole in the floor. Vince dangled his legs down out of the hole. 

“Okay, so let’s take a moment to decide what the best course of action is,” Howard said. “Taking every precaution to make sure that you are lowered safely and--”

“Catch me!” Vince yelled and then slipped off the edge. 

Howard was only allowed one moment of gazelle-like grace a year, and he’d already used it up twenty minutes earlier, saving Vince from breaking his neck. So this time, Vince fell on top of him. 

“Do you remember rule 92, Vince?” Howard asked, from his position under Vince on the floor.

“Don’t jump on Howard before he’s ready,” Vince said.

“Don’t jump on Howard before he’s ready.” Howard said. 

Vince smiled down at him, pulling out the big guns, the wide guileless eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Howard grumbled. He tried to sit up, but Vince was still sitting on his chest. “Get off.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Vince asked. He smirked at Howard, then leaned down to kiss him.

But one of Howard’s timers for one of his dishes went off, and so he shoved Vince off and went to check something cooking on the stove. Vince pouted for a moment, but whatever Howard was cooking smelled so good, he was willing to overlook that Howard had just literally tossed him over for a sauce. 

In any case, now that the ring was ready--or not--he had to focus on the next phase of the evening: his outfit change. He gave Howard strict instructions to put on  _ Silver Bells _ at precisely 6pm for his big entrance. He got a bag of ice to get the swelling on his ankle to go down--he was not wearing trainers to his marriage proposal--and disappeared into his and Howard’s room. 


	4. Chapter 4

Vince put on some Roxy Music to settle down--Bryan’s voice still calmed like a lullaby, even after all these years--and sat down at his messy vanity. He needed to get his game face on. The proposal was happening and it was going to be special and magical and wonderful if it  _ killed him. _

Vince had driven himself mad trying to come up with the perfect proposal look, not sure if he should go with something he knew Howard liked, soft hair, simple makeup or something more in line with Vince’s own flamboyant tastes. Howard seemed to like the secret Vince best, the late night and early morning Vince. Then again, Howard did also appreciate it when Vince went all out. Though Vince knew it was more because he knew how important the “alloutfits” were to Vince, than any personal preference. 

In the end, Vince hadn’t been able to resist the urge to do a full on alloutfit. It would give him confidence, which he hadn’t really realized he needed until he was looking for more of it. And Vince said things best through clothes. If he fumbled the words or ended up saying the wrong thing, maybe his outfit would tell Howard that Vince loved him, otherwise he never would have put so much effort into how incredibly amazing he looked. So, it simply had to be the best look he’d ever worn. 

Vince started with his makeup. After all his misadventures, he was looking a bit worse for wear. He pulled out some of the really  _ really  _ good face cream that he only let himself use once a year because it was  _ that  _ expensive. He swiped it over his face and rubbed it in until his face positively glowed. 

This was the most important face Vince would ever put on, but he did not want to overthink it. So, he’d decided to keep it simple. He swiped black eyeliner on his bottom lids (the stuff that was designed to look good when you cry, the Pagliacci line) and blue liner on his top lids (a strategy he’d discovered that made his eyes look even bigger and bluer than usual). He added just the faintest dusting of blush, and a lip balm Howard seemed to especially like the flavor of (raspberries and cream) that made his lips look full and soft.

Vince blew his reflection a cheeky kiss then set to work on his hair. He’d decided to wear it soft with just a bit of teasing. He knew Howard would go straight for the hair after the proposal and Vince didn’t want to feel cross that Howard was mussing up some elaborate do. 

He pulled out the garment bags containing the outfit he had finally chosen after weeks of agonizing and laid them on the bed. He was fairly certain he’d done it. The ultimate outfit. The one that would tell Howard everything if his brain and mouth started tripping over one another.

He was fairly sure that he’d thought of everything. If he was anyone but Vince Noir--if he was Howard Moon for example--then this thought would have surely invited disaster. But he was Vince Noir, and the universe just never quite seemed to have the heart to disabuse him of the notion that it was a kind and happy place. And so, of course, the outfit was perfect. 

The entire look hinged on one simple fact. Vince wore his heart on his sleeve. So, he’d made a blue jacket sewn with thousands of azure--not just blue, but  _ azure _ \-- sequins, and at his sleeves there were embossed pink hearts. The jacket caught the light and bounced blue stars all around the room. He had found some powder blue tuxedo trousers at a vintage shop and he’d embroidered little pink hearts all over them. He wore a clingy white button down under the jacket that accentuated his narrow frame, he buttoned up only two buttons on the shirt before moving on. For his shoes, he’d chosen his favorite gold high-heeled boots (he’d promised them they could be there when he popped the question). 

Right on time,  _ Silver Bells  _ came on over Howard’s record player. Vince’s stomach gave a tremendous lurch. It was time.

Vince pulled open the door to their bedroom. Howard stood in the living room, facing the hallway, as instructed, so that Vince could see his reaction. And Vince was not disappointed. Howard’s eyes nearly disappeared as he smiled at Vince. 

“You look amazing, little man. Absolutely amazing, “ Howard said. 

Vince’s face split into a gigantic grin that could barely be contained by the sides of his face. He ran toward Howard, because at this moment he couldn’t stand to be anywhere but in Howard’s arms. Except his ankle still hurt and so he only made it two steps before he had to slow down. But he thought he succeeded in playing it cool. 

When Vince finally reached Howard, he threw his arms around Howard’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

“Happy Christmas, Howard.”

Howard kissed him again. “Happy Christmas, Vince.”

Howard directed Vince to sit down for the traditional “revealing of the menu.”

As a kid, Vince had never really been much for food. Which was partly from necessity, there was never much food around, and partly because it all just seemed horribly boring. And real food never tasted as good as sweets. But, thanks to Howard’s amazing culinary creations, Vince finally understood what all the fuss was about with food. 

Howard had made cornish game hens with apple hazelnut stuffing, roasted potatoes with garlic, sausage stuffed mushrooms, bacon wrapped dates, homemade bread, wild greens salad, and for dessert the most beautiful chocolate berry tart with the berries arranged on top arranged in a red christmas tree with a blackberry outline. 

All of the food was absolutely delicious. But Vince couldn’t really concentrate or enjoy it as much as he normally would have. He was too excited about present time. Though this did not stop him from taking seconds and then thirds on the tart. Old habits died hard. 

Vince’s knees started shaking when they took their plates to the sink. It wasn’t from his ankle, and it wasn’t from fear, it was from sheer anticipation. Every few seconds, his brain cell would scream out some declaration, as if keeping the rest of his body informed on the entire situation. So close now! Minutes away! And every time the rest of his body got one of these messages, his heart would speed up, his hands would start to shake, and his heels started lifting off the ground as if he was just going to float away. 

They sat down on the couch together. Howard snaked his arm around Vince’s shoulder and Vince did his best not to literally vibrate with excitement. 

Not long now!

Howard turned to Vince, adopting an overly casual tone. “So...movie?”

Vince scowled at Howard and jabbed him in the ribs.

“Ow!” Howard tried to jab Vince back, but Vince deftly blocked him. 

“It’s present time,” Vince said. If he had to wait much longer he was going to burst into pink balloons. Howard would have to gather him down off the ceiling. 

“Alright, I was only joking,” Howard said, rubbing his ribs.

“You go first,” Vince said.

“Why don’t you go first?” Howard asked. 

“Because mine is going to completely blow yours outta the water,” Vince said.

“Sounding awfully confident, little man. Some would even say arrogant,” Howard said. “You might feel pretty silly in a moment. Wish that you’d gone first.” Howard waggled his eyebrows at Vince. “Last chance.”

“Trust me,” Vince said. 

Howard nodded. He was smiling one of his secret smiles. The one he used when he was very pleased but didn’t want anyone to know it. He stood up and retrieved his guitar from their room. 

“There’s still glitter everywhere in there,” Howard said.

“And whose fault is that?” Vince asked. 

“I wasn’t the one sneaking around,” Howard said. Now, not bothering to hide his smile. 

“No, you were the one setting boobytraps for your fia-boyfriend,” Vince said, praying that Howard blew past his slip up. 

“And just exactly were you doing up in the attic?” Howard asked. 

“All will be revealed,” Vince said.

“All will be revealed? Who are you Hercule Poirot?” Howard said.

“Present!” Vince screeched. He had to keep things moving. The surprise was starting to escape. 

Howard smirked at him, then he began to play and the smirk faded away. His face had the same look of intense furrow-browed concentration it always did when he was playing. Vince could see the 11 year old, and the 17 year old, and the 22 year old, and the now Howard, all at once. For the moment, Vince forgot about the proposal, focusing all his attention on beautiful prickly sweet neurotic brilliant Howard. 

The music was slow and plodding at first. As if written by someone very young.

Vince gasped and brought his hand to his mouth. Howard shot him a smug wolfish grin as if to say “yes sir, bet you wish you’d gone first now, don’t you?” It had to be the song Howard had written for him all those years ago, for their first Christmas together, the one he’d been too embarrassed to sing, the one he’d been holding in his heart for all these years.

Howard repeated the simple melody, but each time he did, he added to it, making it richer and more complex. It started with the simple tune of a child and slowly morphed into the complex song of an experienced musician. 

Vince thought he was doing a fairly good job of keeping it together, considering it was basically the most beautiful song he’d ever heard, more beautiful than Bowie and Jagger and Numan and everyone else combined. Considering all that, he was doing very well.

But then Howard began to sing. 

“You shine, all the time

There’s something mad about you

I’d wait, in line

Just to spend time around you

Glitterboy, funny, silver Glitterboy

Sparkles and shines

Forever asking why

Glitterboy shines”

And after that, Vince really wasn’t doing so well keeping it together. Tears spilled down his cheeks in beautiful black trails (thanks Pagliacci line!) and he had to physically restrain himself from throwing himself into Howard’s arms and kissing him approximately 8,000 times. The only thing that held him back was that if he started kissing Howard, Howard might stop singing.

“It’s been, so long

Still always think about you

To think you’re mine

Can’t imagine life without you

Glitterboy, funny, silver Glitterboy

Sparkles and shines

Forever asking why

Glitterboy shines”

Howard finished off the song by playing softer and softer. 

“Glitterboy shines. Glitterboy shines,” Howard whisper-sang. Then, stopped playing. He grinned his wide wolfy grin and covered his eyes, the way he always did after showing Vince a new song. Like he couldn’t bear to see Vince’s face right away. 

“That was pretty good,” Vince said in a choked voice. Then he couldn’t bear to play it cool for an instant longer. He launched himself into Howard’s lap, careful not to crush the guitar between them. He kissed Howard all over, making Howard laugh. “It was beautiful. You wrote that for me? When you were 11?”

“Parts of it. Some I added,” Howard said. 

“It was brilliant,” Vince said. He picked up Howard’s hand and kissed it. 

“I told my parents I was a prodigy,” Howard said. Vince had looked up what the word prodigy meant and agreed with Howard that it was a tragedy. Howard really had been a prodigy. 

“I have to admit Howard. That was quite good,” Vince said. His heart did a flip in his chest. 

“Told ya,” Howard said. “Feel pretty silly now, don’t y--”

His braincell screamed one last message: the time is now!

“But. I think I still got ya beat,” Vince said, trying to project nonchalance and failing miserably. He climbed to his feet, shaking out his hands. “You ready?”

Howard set aside his guitar. “Ready.”

Vince very slowly and deliberately pulled the corduroy ringbox from his inner jacket pocket that he had sewn for precisely this purpose. He’d had to make the ring box himself as well, because it turned out corduroy was not a popular choice. He allowed Howard to see what it was, allowed those tiny little eyes to widen with confusion, then disbelief, then hope. It was only then that Vince lowered himself down to one knee.

Howard gasped and brought his hand to his mouth, and Vince shot him a cheeky wink and grin that said “yeah, that’s right, I win.”

“Howard T. J. Moon, you great big jazzy freak,” Vince said. “I have loved you from the moment I saw you. That love has changed in a lot of ways, but in other ways it hasn’t. Because you’re still the best person I know.” Vince had spent a lot of time practicing this so that he wouldn’t mess it up, as often happened when he had to talk for a terribly long time. “I have more fun with you than I do anyone else. I like kissing you more than anyone else. I like everything about you more than I do anyone else.”

Howard’s chin wobbled, a tell tale sign that he was going to start crying.

“It’s like you always said, the two of us add up to one whole person. And I wouldn’t want to be a whole person with anybody else. Thank you for being the brave one always--”

Howard laughed, “What are you--”

“You are,” Vince insisted. “In the arctic. You said I love you first. On the roof, you said I love you first, on Christmas you hung up that mistletoe and said “only if you want to”. You’re so brave, Howard. And smart. And funny. And just brilliant. I never met anyone as amazing as you. I love you so much. And so this time, this time it’s my turn to be brave.”

Howard wiped under his eyes. 

Vince opened the ring box, revealing the ring. “Howard. Will you marry me?”

Howard slid off the couch and walked on his knees over to Vince, completely engulfing him in a hug (how far he’d come from only being able to muster a handshake). “Yes. Yes. Of course. I love you so much. Yes,” Howard said, his mouth squished up right next to Vince’s ear, so even though the answer was a joyful whisper, Vince caught every word. “Yes. Yes.” Howard kissed Vince’s cheek, then his mouth, then the flat diamond of his nose. “I love you.”

Vince let out a sound half between joyful laugh and relieved sob. “I love you too.” He pulled the ring out of the box and held it out. “Now just a warnin’, it might not fit--” he slid the ring onto Howard’s finger and it fit perfectly. “Nevermind,” Vince said. He could hardly believe it. Beginner’s luck to the rescue once again. 

Howard admired the ring in the light. “This is beautiful, Vince. Where did you get it?”

“Get it? Get it?!” Vince asked indignantly. “I didn’t get it anywhere. I bleedin’ made that. Cause of rule one.”

“Surely a bit of leeway would have been allowed for an engagement ring.” Howard said, still admiring the ring. “You really made this?” 

“I’m gonna kill Naboo,” Vince muttered under his breath. 

“Woah, hey there, settle down. Easy. I love it Vince. And I love it even more, knowing that you made it. It’s so beautiful,” Howard said. He kissed Vince again. 

Vince was still feeling a bit put out that he’d made the ring, when he didn’t have to, but it was quite difficult to remain annoyed when he was more happy than he ever had been. And he was quite proud of the ring. 

“There’s an inscription too,” Vince said. 

Howard easily slipped the ring off and held it up to the light so he could read the inscription on the inside of the band.  _ It’s me and you all the way.  _

Howard started crying again. “I love it so much. I love  _ you,  _ so much.”

“Told ya I’d win,” Vince said. He gave Howard a cheeky grin. 

“That you did, little man,” Howard kissed Vince again. “That you did.”

Now that the proposal was over, Vince disappeared into their room for the final outfit change of the night, into soft pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, changing into the late night early morning Vince that he knew Howard liked best. Though if Vince had asked Howard, Howard would have said that he liked every Vince best, that it was a thousand way tie. 

Vince and Howard snuggled together on the couch, watching Christmas movies and kissing every time either of them caught sight of the ring on Howard’s finger. 

When the credits rolled on  _ It’s a Wonderful Life,  _ Howard stood up and stretched. “Time for bed little man, big day tomorrow. And Father Christmas will be coming soon.”

Vince held up his arms, which he always did when he wanted Howard to carry him to bed. Howard very rarely obliged this unspoken request, but Vince had a feeling that tonight he would. And he was proven right when Howard scooped him into his arms. 

“Guess I’d better get the practice in,” Howard said. “Carrying you around, got to prepare for our wedding night, crossing the threshold and all that.”

Vince was a bit relieved to hear that Howard planned to do the carrying. He’d proposed and he didn’t know if that meant he’d be stuck with all the groom stuff like waiting around like a berk while Howard walked down the aisle in a dress and attempting to carry Howard across the threshold after they were married. But it seemed they would be splitting groom duties. 

Speaking of groom duties…

“So for my ring, I want something cool and big and shiny,” Vince said.

“Oh, for your ring?” Howard said, arching his eyebrow, amused.

“Well yeah!” Vince said. “I need an engagement ring too. “An’ none a; this homemade stuff either. Christmas is nearly over. I want top of the line! It better be--”

Howard glanced up at the ceiling. “Oh look some mistletoe.” There was no mistletoe, but reality had never stopped them before and he easily cut Vince off with a kiss. 

**The End**


End file.
